


Exile

by MrsHamill



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Compliant, Dark, Drug Use, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-13
Updated: 2005-09-13
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:36:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsHamill/pseuds/MrsHamill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What makes Qui-Gon think Obi-Wan will <i>want</i> to see him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exile

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to figure out why Obi-Wan ages so much between ROTS and ANH. This may give a hint. Bless Mac and Catnip for their help on the beginning (which sucked, before) and Claude for her usual superlative beta. Put all the bad stuff on me, though

Keeping busy kept Obi-Wan Kenobi sane. So when he ran out of busy work, he tried insanity to see how it fit. Just for a while, he'd told himself. Not for very long, just for enough time to let the pain fade.

He had managed to make a reputation for himself in his current spice house in less than a week -- or so, he was muddled on how much time was passing. He'd take anyone, any species, any number, any time. Being a human fucktoy... there were worse things in the galaxy. Like being a Jedi, for instance. He would have liked to be able to offer his services as 'fuck a Jedi' but that probably would have lead to his swift death, and if he was to die, then it should be slow and agonizing, not quick. What use was death except for that, anyway?

One day he looked up through the haze of smoke and pain to see a familiar, darkly handsome face looking down at him. He'd never seen Bail Organa look so disgusted, his features twisted up and his eyes positively dripping with loathing. He grabbed Obi-Wan around the neck and hauled him away from whatever thing was using him, all but dragging him down the corridor to the front of the place. He threw something to the being guarding the door, wrapped an old blanket around Obi-Wan's nakedness and tossed him in the passenger seat of a waiting speeder. Obi-Wan was drunk, high, whatever, and hadn't even realized what was going on until Bail spoke, in a low, forceful growl, just before starting the speeder.

"Just what the hell do you think you've been doing?" 

Fresh air helped clear the miasma from Obi-Wan's head, made him realize he had no idea what world they were on. In the next moment, he realized who was with him and felt a stab of ice-cold fear in the heart he thought he'd excised. "Bail? Leia? Force, is she...?"

"She's fine. You, however, are not. Are you insane? Scratch that. I know you're insane. Are you deliberately trying to sabotage the rebellion? Because it sure looks like you are from where I'm standing." Bail's voice was hard and inflexible and made Obi-Wan wince.

"How did you find me?"

"It wasn't that difficult, you idiot. Half the Empire is after you. You're damn lucky I found you first. Though considering what you look like now, I'm surprised _I_ recognized you, which, I guess, is to your credit. What the fuck is wrong with you?"

As if Obi-Wan knew the answer to that question. Maybe it would have been better not to have been found at all. He didn't reply but turned his head to the window to watch the passing scenery, still trying to figure out what planet they were on. He had thought he'd been on Corellia. 

"So do you want to give me an explanation, _General_ Kenobi? Or should I just do as Mon Mothma said and toss you out of an airlock?"

Obi-Wan snorted. "What did Giddean say to that?"

"Danu was the one who suggested it."

"You never told me how you found me." Still avoiding the question.

"Yoda."

Obi-Wan whipped his head back to stare in astonished anger at Bail. "You went to--!"

"I had no choice! You were _gone,_ vanished, we had no way of knowing if you were in the Empire's hands and spilling names, dates and places! Yes, we went to Yoda -- this time. If you ever do anything like this again though, to hell with Yoda. I'm going to rip you apart with my bare hands!"

Suddenly ashamed, Obi-Wan looked down, drawing the filthy, ragged blanket tighter around himself.

"You set up our entire network, Obi-Wan; you know more about it than any of the rest of us. You can't simply decide to go for a walk without letting someone know where you were going, what you'd be doing." From the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan noted the white-knuckled grip Bail's hands had on the wheel of speeder, directing them towards what appeared to be a spaceport. "If you'd wanted to kill yourself, all you had to do was ask. Any number of us would be pleased to do the honors." After a few moments, Bail sighed. When he spoke again, his voice was sad and carried the weight of happier memories. "Look, Obi-Wan..."

"Ben."

"Whatever. I can't pretend to know what you and Yoda went through. What you went through. But we _need_ you. Your role in this isn't over, there's still the twins to worry about. We need to rely on you, to know you'll be there when we need you. We need you," he repeated, quietly. " _I_ need you."

The last of whatever intoxicants were in Obi-Wan's body burned out through his shame, leaving him with a terrible headache, a precursor to the withdrawal he expected to feel. "It won't happen again," he murmured. After a moment, he added, in an even softer voice, "I'm sorry, Bail."

His only reply was silence; he couldn't tell if it denoted contempt or agreement.

At the port, Bail left him in the tender mercies of Chewbacca the Wookiee, who looked just as disgusted as Bail had been, but thankfully quieter. Chewbacca led him to a small stateroom on a decrepit-looking freighter and shut the door behind him with a firm clang. There was clean water for bathing and several sets of clothing like Jedi tunics and a deep brown robe for him to dress in. For reasons he really didn't want to contemplate, dressing in the tunics -- which were far too large for him -- made him want to cry, made him yearn for the comfort of spice and deathsticks and any number of other intoxicants. 

Being high meant he didn't really sleep, which was good. When he slept, things often happened.

* * *

He couldn't have been on Corellia because it was a far longer trip back to Tatooine, to his place of exile, than he expected. He spent most of the time staring out the viewport as the stars streaked by, remembering how and why he'd chosen to leave. He'd been kept busy for a long time, just after... just after everything ended. And there were benefits to keeping busy -- he wasn't able to dwell in the past, in his pain. Being busy meant he could avoid speaking to or thinking of Qui-Gon Jinn and what Yoda had told him about the man. But finally, everything had been finished, had been put into readiness. Contacts had been made and lines of communication had been set up, and he discovered he'd had nothing further to do but wait. 

Wait for Luke to grow. Wait for the rebellion to be real. Wait for Qui-Gon Jinn.

When Yoda had told him about Qui-Gon's new-found ability to somehow coalesce as an entity from the Force, Obi-Wan's first reaction was elation and joy -- his beloved master, able to speak to him, be with him, from beyond. It wasn't long before he'd had second thoughts, though. Memories were recalled; his incredible pain just before and after Qui-Gon died, leaving Obi-Wan alone with a padawan before his braid was cut. The unspeakable agony Qui-Gon's precious 'Chosen One' had caused both Obi-Wan and the galaxy. Obi-Wan had decided that Qui-Gon had, in the end, caused him nothing but pain and loss. The love he thought they might have felt for one another turned to bitter salt in his mouth when he realized that Qui-Gon had, in many ways, betrayed him.

Eventually he had decided no, he would rather not learn from Qui-Gon again. He would rather avoid discussion on how to retain one's individuality after death. It simply wasn't worth it, he had felt. He would rather die when it was his time and move into the Force without his consciousness, his memories or his guilt hanging along for the ride. 

As it turned out, his choice was taken away from him. He woke one morning to find a serene blue figure standing at the end of his bed. 

Qui-Gon looked much as he had looked in life; his short, neat beard, the long, silver-shot hair. He wore the same calm expression he always had, an expression Obi-Wan suddenly realized he wanted to wipe off Qui-Gon's non-corporeal face.

They stared at each other for a long while, neither speaking, and Obi-Wan wondered how much of his thoughts this projection of Qui-Gon Jinn could read. That question was answered when it spoke.

"You look tired."

With some surprise, Obi-Wan discovered he was almost shaking in anger. It had been a long, long time since he had meditated, deliberately so. He had wanted to put off this meeting indefinitely and suspected meditation would be a conduit for his former master to come to him. It seemed that sleep  also worked and he found it amusing it would be the first restful sleep he'd had in over a year.

He shoved the thin blanket back and sat up. "Do I?" He put his feet on the floor, found his slippers and stood, the light shorts he wore already damp with perspiration in the blasted heat of the horrible place he had to call home. "How incredibly observant of you."

Stalking into the other room of his two-room hovel, he noticed that Qui-Gon followed him by walking, almost as if he were corporeal. It was total nonsense. Qui-Gon was a fucking ghost. He could have walked through the walls had he wanted to.

"What's wrong? Are you angry about something?"

Obi-Wan had a cup in hand as Qui-Gon spoke; his intent was to pour himself a cup of the lukewarm, bitter tea he drank in the morning to wake himself up but he never got that far. The question shattered what was left of his composure as well as the cup, which he threw into the wall with some force. The sound of the ceramic exploding on the stone wall of his home freed his tongue and he realized he was not merely angry. "Angry? _Angry?_ No, Qui-Gon, I'm not angry, I'm enraged. I'm incensed! I'm so furious I can't stop shaking and I have been for years, I just haven't acknowledged it until now. So you can just _stop_ with the fucking generalizations because you haven't a clue how I really feel!" It felt so _good_ to finally admit to himself and the universe how he felt about everything that had happened to him. How often in the past year had he wished that Grievous, or Cody, or Anakin or any of his dead friends had killed him? Releasing such anger was impossible. He _was_ his anger.

General Kenobi had had no time for anger. Nor had Master Kenobi, thrust on to the Council out of attrition and necessity. Ben Kenobi, however, found his rage and nearly reveled in it. In his righteous wrath, everything became clear and sharp as day.

Qui-Gon frowned and put his hands into the sleeves of his robe. His eyes were shadowed, and Obi-Wan had the absurd notion that they would be absorbed into the blue nimbus that surrounded him, making Qui-Gon blind. Not that that would be anything new.

"It sounds to me as if you need to meditate, padawan."

"Don't you _dare_ call me that," Obi-Wan snarled. "I am no longer your padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn, if I ever was."

"Of course you were my padawan. You were my padawan for over ten years--"

"And so easily thrust aside! From someone who didn't want to take another padawan after Xanatos, you were damn quick to take... to take..." Damn. Anakin's name wouldn't come out, hadn't come out since Padme died, in fact. The pain of Anakin's betrayal was still fresh and green, like a wound on a tree bleeding sap.

"Is that what this is about? You feel I pushed you aside for Anakin?"

"I _feel?_ You pushed me aside! All I felt was insulted! And then you used emotional blackmail to get me to take that boy as my padawan, to raise him as a Jedi--"

"I did not blackmail you."

"Liar! I held you as you died, you bastard, and I heard what you said. 'Train the boy,' you said. 'He's the Chosen One,' you said. You made me promise to train that brat and you didn't even say goodbye, damn you, didn't even say..." Didn't even say 'I love you,' Obi-Wan finished silently. The words wouldn't come out and his throat hurt.

"Anakin needed to be trained..."

"Anakin needed to be aborted!" How he wished he could touch Qui-Gon, kiss Qui-Gon, punch Qui-Gon, make him feel the pain and anguish that was rolling through Obi-Wan with the force of a nova.

"Obi-Wan. Calm yourself. Release your anger. I assure you, it's misplaced."

"No. It's not misplaced. Go away if you don't like it. I didn't invite you here."

"You are a Jedi, Obi-Wan and--"

"I AM NOT A JEDI!" Obi-Wan realized he was shouting and it hurt his throat more, but it was so hard to modulate his tone. "The Jedi are extinct! There ARE no more Jedi, don't you understand? He killed them all!" Obi-Wan began gesticulating wildly as he sought without effect to escape Qui-Gon Jinn's ghost. "Do you KNOW what he did? Do you? He killed them! He killed them all! I saw... I saw the tapes... he killed the babies, he set fires in the nurseries, and then..." Oh, gods. Obi-Wan ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying, again, to wipe the sight of Anakin cutting down helpless younglings, those who had trusted him as a Jedi and a Council member. "He killed them all..." Obi-Wan whispered, falling back against the wall, his anger transmuting to anguish. The pain in his middle made him wrap his arms around himself to try and hold it in. "The babies, the younglings, the older Jedi who stood against him, even the Temple infrastructure crew. He killed them all. He killed them all."

Qui-Gon was still there, standing serene and glowing blue before him. Obi-Wan couldn't quite see Qui-Gon's face for the tears swimming in his eyes, but he was willing to bet it was the same calm expression he always wore. "And then he made me kill him," Obi-Wan grated out, past the tears and the anger and the pain. "He made me kill him. He was my _brother_ and he made me kill him!" Tears finally spilled, the first in over a year, the first since Padme had died. They joined with the sweat on his face and he could not tell the difference; they both tasted the same -- bitter and salty. "I loved him, and he made me kill him."

"Obi-Wan..." Qui-Gon's voice sounded low and rough, but Obi-Wan didn't care. Qui-Gon had no idea what true pain was. "Anakin... he's not..." Qui-Gon licked his lips, his non-corporeal lips, how could he lick something that didn't exist? "Anakin isn't dead."

It wasn't until spots began dancing before his eyes that Obi-Wan realized he wasn't breathing. He gasped but it didn't work, he could still feel an iron band tightening around his chest, preventing his lungs from working, his wounded heart from beating.

"Obi-Wan?"

"He can't be," Obi-Wan whispered. "He... he was on fire... I had to get back..." He remembered his panic at recalling Padme's condition, how Anakin had tried to kill her, and Anakin was dead, was on fire, there was nothing left but to get Padme to safety...

"Palpatine found him, before he died," Qui-Gon murmured. "He's more... machine, now, than man."

"Sweet gods. Darth Vader..." There had been rumors of a frightening thing, like Grievous, more machine than man; a black cloaked, huge _thing_ that was a remorseless killer in the name of the Empire. The Emperor's right hand. The Sith's new apprentice. Anakin? His Anakin? Please gods it couldn't be...

"Yes, I think so. Yoda has felt him."

Obi-Wan had never searched for the training bond, the bond between himself and Anakin, the bond that had been tenuous in the first place, after leaving Anakin to die. He hadn't wanted to leave but he knew Anakin was already dead and he couldn't bring himself to make the killing stroke. He'd had Padme and her child, her children, to consider. Reluctantly, he closed his eyes and turned inward, long enough to realize it was still there; not a bloody, severed string but a black thread that wound through his wounded, bleeding psyche. "No..."

"Obi-Wan, it wasn't your fault. You--"

"No. No, no, no, NO!" Obi-Wan clapped his hands over his ears and pressed, hard, hoping to squeeze the black thread out of his brain. This was inexcusable, it was inconceivable, it was the last straw...

Literally throwing himself away from the wall, he ran into his bedroom and began dressing, throwing more clothing into a duffle with haphazard attention. 

"What are you doing?" Qui-Gon had followed him and stood in the doorway radiating concern.

"What difference does it make? I'm no longer your padawan, and if you ask me I never was!" Obi-Wan snarled in reply, even as he pulled the drawstring tight on the duffle bag. He turned and found Qui-Gon blocking his path. "Get out of my way."

"Obi-Wan, stop. You need to stop, to calm down. You're overwrought--"

"I said, get out of my way!" Not waiting for his command to be executed, Obi-Wan stormed through the blue-tinged form of his former master, the one person he had thought to love unconditionally. There was a momentary electric charge, like being in a static field, and he somehow seemed to merge consciousness with Qui-Gon, feeling the man's concern, fear, sadness, and other emotions he didn't want to know about. Then he was through and heading for the door of his dirt hovel.

"Obi-Wan! It's not safe for you out there... Where do you think you're going?"

"To get fucked. To hell. Back to Mustafar to die. What do you care?"

He'd thought he'd heard a plaintive voice saying, "I _do_ care," but he hadn't let it stop him from slamming the door behind him. He'd rode his eopie to Mos Eisley and found a transport willing to take him... take him anywhere. Away from Tatooine, away from his pain, away from the man he despised. 

Now, as he found himself on the long road back to Tatooine and exile, he wondered which man he despised more, Qui-Gon Jinn or himself.

* * *

Luke was nine and growing like a weed. Had he really been gone that long?

Owen Lars hadn't recognized him when Obi-Wan showed up on his doorstep, which hadn't surprised Obi-Wan after what Bail had said. He'd had no interest in looked at himself during the trip back, so he had no idea what he looked like. Looking at himself would have reminded him of all he'd lost, all he'd sacrificed, all the pain he still carried like the ragged clothes on his back.

So Luke was well, Beru was well, Owen was well and would be better as soon as Kenobi left. The hostility he had initially shown Obi-Wan had grown into full-fledged hatred during Obi-Wan's extended absence, and Obi-Wan resigned himself to watching Luke grow from a distance. Considering how his father had turned out, it was probably better that he have little direct contact with the boy anyway. He resolutely put out of his mind that Luke was the same age Anakin had been when found by Qui-Gon Jinn.

His hovel was just as he'd left it. Nothing much changed in the Dune Sea of Tatooine, just like the weather. He carried a pack full of food and other staples behind him on the eopie since he knew everything in the place would be bad by now. It had been more than seven years... how could it have been that many years? That many years of behaving as _un_ like a Jedi as he could? Years of hiding from himself, from Qui-Gon, from his responsibilities, from his former padawan, from everything. 

With a deep breath, Obi-Wan dismounted and led the eopie to the small stable, making sure it had food and water before going inside his house again. The shards of the ceramic cup he'd broken years before were still on the floor, and Obi-Wan cleaned that up first before putting away what he'd brought with him. By the time he straightened everything, tossed the food gone bad, cleared the well and checked the house's small vaporator, it was getting dark. 

When he turned from lighting the small lamp in the living area, he found he wasn't alone. 

Qui-Gon's face looked stricken. "Obi-Wan?"

"I suppose asking you if you've been waiting here all this time is rather pointless." The anger he had once felt for his ex-master had crumbled into dust some time back, helped along by bouts of inebriation and self-flagellation.

"I have been," Qui-Gon replied. "I can tie myself to a place, if I want. I wanted to wait for you. What has happened to you?"

Obi-Wan considered that question for some time before he answered. His feet hurt. "I've been stupid," he finally said. "I tried to drown myself and my pain any way I could." He'd been thinking along the long trip back to his exile, trying to remember where he'd been and what he'd done. Not so thankfully, the answer to those questions were _too many places_ and _too much._ "I tried to behave in a way as far as possible from being a Jedi. I tried to repudiate everything, including my pain and responsibility."

Curiously, Qui-Gon almost looked as though he wanted to cry. "Oh, Obi-Wan. What have you done to yourself?"

It was dark enough now that the small window near his sitting area could act as a mirror. Catching sight of something odd, Obi-Wan turned to see it was himself: his face, lined and careworn; his body thin and weak; his shaggy and unkempt hair, what there was of it, more white than ginger; his scraggly beard mostly silver. He sat on the big chair which had been his favorite seat from their quarters on Coruscant, brought to Tatooine at some effort, and stared at his reflection in the window. A chuckle was surprised out of him. "At least I now look as I feel."

Qui-Gon sat on the trunk across from the chair, one Obi-Wan had often used as a footrest. It held what little was left of Obi-Wan's old life -- the poncho Qui-Gon had worn on so many worlds where Jedi tunics might be suspect. Obi-Wan's dress whites. His braid. Qui-Gon's lightsaber.

Anakin's lightsaber.

"Did you know I have Anakin's lightsaber?" he said, bemused. He finally looked up into Qui-Gon's face as he spoke.

Qui-Gon was crying. 

"Master?"

"This is my fault," Qui-Gon whispered. "What you've done to yourself to escape the punishment I imposed upon you. The pain you've lived through... it's all because of my shortsightedness, my inflexibility. Oh... my Obi-Wan..."

There had been a time when Obi-Wan might have reacted to Qui-Gon's words with bitter laughter or screams of anger. There had been a time when Obi-Wan's pain was so huge, so all-consuming that he wouldn't have been able to see past it to another's pain. But there was one thing his attempt at oblivion had taught him: the universe had one hell of a sense of humor and if you weren't careful, you could end up with a 'kick me' sign on your back. He felt as if he'd aged a hundred years for every year he'd been gone, and with that age came at least a semblance of wisdom, finally.

"Yes, it was," Obi-Wan said mildly. "You were one sanctimonious bastard, Qui-Gon Jinn. Stubborn, too." He smiled gently. "But I still miss you, I still ache for you. Even when I was blasted on spice and being used by four beings at once, I missed you. I hated you, too, for a long time. I think you know that." His smile turned wry. "But I still would have sold my soul to have you back. Even when I hated you."

Tears slipped down Qui-Gon's blue-tinged face, vanishing into his beard. "I wish I could touch you."

"I'm glad you cannot." Obi-Wan shook his head. "I've changed, Master."

"Not in any way important." As it turned out, Qui-Gon's eyes were a darker blue than the aura that surrounded him and were filled with pain. "Dying... I suppose it's trite to say it changes a being, but it does. So much of what we feel is physical, when we're alive. I don't have that impetus any longer, but in a way that makes my feelings all the sharper. I love you, Obi-Wan. And I'm sorry, so very sorry."

Obi-Wan sighed and his smile went away. "How many times in the past twenty years have I yearned to hear your voice, to hear you say those words?" He met Qui-Gon's guilty gaze straight on. "It's not enough, Qui-Gon. Your actions set into motion a tragedy on an epic scale. The loss of life, of the innocent as well as the guilty, is enormous. Most times I can't even wrap my head around what might have happened had you had left Anakin on Tatooine. So much would have changed. That one man could have done all this... one man who was my student, my brother, someone thrust into my keeping and who I cared deeply for... it's inconceivable."

Qui-Gon looked down. His incorporeal hands were knotted on his lap and he appeared to be shaking. "I have much to answer for, don't I?" he murmured.

"It's too late for guilt, Qui-Gon." Even as the thought coalesced, it dawned upon him. It _was_ too late. And in that moment, finally after long and pain-filled years, Obi-Wan found his peace. It spread over his wounded soul like a soft blanket, wrapping him in bliss. The last knots worked out of his back and the last poisons in his system fled; the Force seeped in and he finally acknowledged it. It felt marvelous to have his soul serene again. "Far too late. What is done cannot be undone. We must learn to live in the now and plan for the future that must happen. Luke is part of that, as is his sister."

Without looking up, Qui-Gon said, "Are you going to train Luke?"

Obi-Wan snorted. "Even if Lars would let me I wouldn't. I didn't do a very good job with his father, did I? Best we wait until the time is better. He'll be older, but since there's no longer a Jedi Order, what difference does it make?"

"No longer a Jedi Order." The words were said in Qui-Gon's voice but carried a weight of remorse. "I helped destroy the Jedi Order."

"Perhaps this was for the best." Meaning to sound comforting, Obi-Wan was surprised by how right his words felt. "If one man can accomplish all this, then perhaps we were wrong all along. How many times did you tell me the Council was misguided, was not listening to the Force properly? Perhaps with the Skywalker children we'll see a new Jedi Order rise that will be stronger and wiser."

"Wisdom born of pain." Qui-Gon finally looked up and met Obi-Wan's calm gaze. "A lifetime ago, I told you I foresaw you being a great Jedi, some day. I was wrong. You already were a great Jedi."

Obi-Wan swallowed hard to hold back the surge of emotion he felt. "Damn. I didn't think I wanted you to be able to touch me... but now..." He managed to smile. "I do love you, Qui-Gon. I'm sorry that it took me so long to realize that."

They stared at each other in silence, and through the Force, Obi-Wan could feel Qui-Gon's anguish fade until it was nearly gone, healed by the peace of knowledge Obi-Wan had been given. The night grew deeper around them as they finally came to a wordless agreement, finally settled all debts between them, finally acknowledged the feelings they shared that, before, would have been forbidden and now were merely impossible.

Quite suddenly, Qui-Gon spoke. "Obi-Wan, close your eyes." 

Blinking in surprise, Obi-Wan said, "Wha... why?"

"Please. Close your eyes for me."

Puzzled but willing, especially with his newfound contentment, Obi-Wan did as he was bid. A few moments later, he felt a sweet, tingling pressure on his lips, and heard a low murmuring voice in his head. "I love you too, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon said, as he kissed him.

* * *

"You should not have come back."

Where was Anakin in the huge, black form that faced him? Padme, as she lay dying, said that there was good in him still, but Obi-Wan couldn't find it. True, he hadn't looked very hard -- it was just too painful, too agonizing. When he remembered the sweet, cheerful boy and the good friend and brother, his heart clenched. When he remembered the bodies of younglings at the Temple, his heart seethed.

"It's time, Obi-Wan," he heard in his head. A glance to his left confirmed that Luke and the others were on their way to the Millennium Falcon. He could not allow Anakin to know that his children lived and were actively working against him. That time would come but it was too soon now. Perhaps Luke could find the goodness in his father, some day. But Luke needed to be free to be allowed that chance, sometime in the future.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, raised his 'saber in salute, and waited for the blow to come.

"I think it was easier for you than for me," he heard a beloved, aggrieved voice say.

"Run, Luke; run!" Obi-Wan projected, wanting to confirm that Luke did indeed escape with Leia. It was in their hands, now, where possibly it should have been all along.

Not, of course, that he wouldn't be meddling, every now and then.

Opening his eyes, he found himself looking directly into the deep blue eyes of the one man he wanted most to see. Half nervous, half excited, he reached out his hand and felt it grasped, strongly, by big, warm fingers.

"Finally."

end


End file.
